


Gesture

by yeaka



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 08:36:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11287620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: When times are rough, Gladion crashes with Ilima.





	Gesture

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is based solely on the game version of Pokémon Sun, which, fair warning, I just started.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Pokémon or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

His room is huge, of course, which Gladion should more than know by now, but it still hits him again every time: just how much _space_ there is, and how much he wastes it. Gladion can’t help but eye the rows of shelves that take up half the room, towering high and stuffed full of books and CDs and other things Gladion wouldn’t stock there. They’re stylish but obtrusive, and it makes him scrunch his nose.

Like reading his thoughts, Ilima sighs, “They’re not going anywhere, you know.” Gladion turns his head sharply, eyes fixed in a glare, but Ilima’s as demure and untouchable as ever. “My pokémon have an entire island to play on—they don’t need an arena in my bedroom.” 

Gladion just scowls, because if he thought there was one thing they could agree on, it was pokémon battles. There’s _never_ enough arena space. And a private area like this, protected and safe, could be gold.

That would depend, of course, on Ilima’s family being trustworthy. They gave Gladion genuine smiles downstairs, and he heard them whispering— _how nice it is for Ilima to enjoy his ‘friend’ so much._ Except they’re not friends. And Gladion has no idea how Ilima could possibly enjoy him.

But Ilima has a giant bed he’s always welcome to, and Ilima never asks any questions. He lets Gladion stay, and he lets Type: Null lounge on the rug—he even moves now towards the table, gripping one end, and Gladion wordlessly takes the other side. They shift it away, leaving plenty of room for a large pokémon to relax. With his soft smile, Ilima suggests, “Some of mine are downstairs—”

But Gladion grunts, “No,” because he’s _responsible_ , and he doesn’t let his pokémon out of his sight. He doesn’t even mention Team Skull. He’s grateful that Ilima never does. 

Ilima shrugs, and then he pauses, waiting patiently in the middle of the floor, like he’s waiting for words that aren’t coming. Gladion says nothing. Then Ilima drops his eyes and wanders back towards the bed, twice as large as it needs to be, and picks up the nearest pillow to fluff. He gives Gladion a smile that’s kinder than he deserves. Then Ilima is strolling for the door, even though it’s _his_ room, and Gladion can feel the seconds ticking down again like they do every time. When Ilima passes him, he panics, and he shoots his arm out, grabbing Ilima’s hand.

Smooth and soft in his, Ilima turns to look at him. Ilima gives his fingers a warm squeeze. Gladion’s breath hitches, and he forces out, “You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t make guests sleep on the couch,” Ilima returns, voice like silk and all too easy. Everything seems so _easy_ for him. Gladion can see why people call him a prince.

Gladion used to be annoyed by that. He still sort of is. But he swallows his pride because he’s sick of regret, and he manages to counter, “The bed’s big enough for two.”

Ilima just lifts one honey-pink brow. Gladion can feel his cheeks heating. He glares as though daring Ilima to defy him. 

And then he feels foolish, because Ilima already does so much for him, and he shouldn’t ask for any more.

But Ilima murmurs, “Okay,” and comes back into the room, his hand still in Gladion’s, every bit a champion.


End file.
